


The Many Voices of Richie Tozier

by nb_richie (shipit)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fluff, Gay, M/M, Marriage, Nightmares, alcohol mention, having a kid, mention of angst, they both are cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 08:18:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipit/pseuds/nb_richie
Summary: Richie has a million voices, and Eddie loves them all.(Sequel to 'The Many Faces of Eddie Kaspbrak,' can be read as a stand alone)





	The Many Voices of Richie Tozier

Eddie thinks he knows all of Richie's voices. They’ve been friends for fifteen years, dating for four of those, and now married for seven. Every day, he looks at someone who he gets to call his own, sees Richie in all his complexity and beauty. Sometimes it just blows him away, remembering that this is real.

Good-Morning Richie is the first one Eddie hears every day. Ninety percent of the time, Richie can’t even see him because his thick glasses are on the nightstand and his contacts are in the bathroom, but he still grins and tells Eddie how pretty he is. Sometimes they’ll share a few lazy kisses that smell like morning breath but both of them love anyway. Richie whispers  _ Good morning, Eds, _ before they get out of bed, words a little rough at the edges from hours of disuse. On holidays or anniversaries or birthdays, he might say Beautiful instead of Eds. The last thing they do before they get up for the day is fumble in the dark for Richie’s glasses so that he can see to find the light switch.

While they’re getting ready, Mother-Hen Richie helps Eddie do things like tie his tie, get breakfast, and take his meds. He always gets himself ready in the last ten minutes before leaving the house, scrambling to find another sock while hopping into a pair of jeans. There’s a method to the madness that is Richard Tozier when he’s trying to get so many things done at once. No matter how many times Eddie tries to get him to start getting ready earlier, Richie always brushes him off with a buck-toothed smirk and a promise that he’s just fine the way he is.

Friday-Night Richie comes home at the end of the week with pizza boxes and a six pack of beer that tastes like piss but he likes for some reason. He kisses often and with passion, like he can’t get enough of Eddie, no matter how hard he tries. His lips taste like that awful beer, but Eddie doesn’t mind as much as he pretends to because it’s Richie and he knows that it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. As he gets tipsy, he gets a little quieter than usual, and he says all the things he’s afraid to when he’s sober.

Every other night of the week, After-Work Richie still pushes through chores and does all the same stuff he’s been doing with Eddie since they got together, even though he looks dead on his feet. Sometimes, he might let Eddie take him upstairs for a bath and a cup of tea for his overused voice, but more often than not he pretends that he’s energetic as always. His smiles are mostly tight. If he tries really hard, Eddie can often come up with at least a couple jokes to make Richie crack a real grin.

Then, Exhausted Richie splays out in bed with Eddie at night. His body is warm and familiar, like his personality. The little patterns he traces on Eddie’s skin are barely-there ghosts of feather light touch that almost tickle. Kisses come few and far between, but they’re soft, slow, affectionate. Richie touches Eddie like he’s something that deserves to be worshipped, and with even less of a filter than usual, he often says things he rarely admits out loud an octave lower than normal. Eddie falls asleep before Richie, but he wakes up after, still firmly held in his fiance’s arms.

Many other Richie’s fiter in and out of their lives, too.

Surprisingly-Good-Impressions Richie has a certain self-confidence that Richie can never quite achieve on his own. With his mouth twisted to make the Voices, the rest of him stands in a strong pillar, as though all of his energy and attention is going straight to his mouth. Eddie likes to think that it is. However long his Voice lasts, Richie is a statue that’s damn near impossible to look away from. Sometimes Eddie looks at him like this and thinks he belongs in an art museum so everyone can see how beautiful he is. 

I-Dreamt-I-Lost-You Richie talks in a thick tone that sounds like he’s on the brink of tears, which he often is. His arms tighten around Eddie, hands weave through his hair and drag up and down any exposed skin.  _ I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t wake up to your stupid beautiful face everyday _ , Richie whispers on those nights. Eddie pretends he doesn’t hear or remember those words, but he holds them close to his heart. 

Singing Richie has a strong, unspoken confidence. His words are clear, crisp, carried on unwavering notes. If they were a shape, Eddie thinks they’d be something with corners. Eyes shut behind thick glasses so that the only thing Richie has to process is the music that he loves and creates. Emotion pours out of him, flooding the room with it in a way that nothing else can. 

My-Parents-Called Richie won’t look Eddie in the eye. He’s quiet, keeping his words soft but bitter. Until he recovers from whatever harsh words they had for him, he refuses to touch Eddie, or say I love you. Sometimes it’s a couple hours. Once it was three weeks. Eddie’s never found out exactly what it is that they say, but he knows that eventually Richie feels better and apologizes. 

Eddie hates I-Don’t-Want-To-Fight Richie because his words are choked out through a voice thick with his tears. Above all else, Richie hates fighting. He would rather sit down and talk everything through, but it isn’t always possible. When Eddie goes off on him, yelling about something stupid that he’ll feel awful for later, it always makes Richie cry. Sometimes it’s bad enough that he’ll flinch or try to cover his face with his hands. Even long after the fight, Richie’s still hoarse and sniffling. 

I’m-Not-Upset-Anymore Richie opens his arms for Eddie to barrel into after they fight. There’s no real talking, just closeness. Richie takes them to the bedroom and they collapse together without a word. No dirty jokes. No impressions. No apologies. 

Nervous-but-Can’t-Show-It Richie’s hands shake minutely as he unfolds a piece of paper with a few scribbles on it. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes are welling up with tears. Happy tears.  _ Eddie. Eds. Eddie Spaghetti. Edward Kaspbrak.  _ People laugh, but not Eddie. He just smiles.  _ I wrote shit down but I hate having stuff prepared. So I’m gonna- I’m gonna wing it?  _ His voice goes up at the end, unsure.  _ I um. I love you. A lot. Ever since we were kids.  _ He stammers his way through promises to love Eddie forever, and brief mentions of inside jokes that make Eddie laugh and mumble,  _ Beep beep, Richie.  _ Eventually Richie gets to the point, and everyone’s crying as he and Eddie both say  _ I do.  _

There’s been a few instances lately where Eddie sighed because Please-Don’t-Be-Mad Richie convinces him to keep calm about something completely stupid he’s done. Once, about two months after their honeymoon, Eddie comes home from a weekend at his mother’s to find Richie picking up after a dog. She’s a Labrador puppy with long yellow fur and a green collar. The tag reads  _ Waffles  _ and Richie gives Eddie puppy dog eyes to rival hers. He begs to let Waffles stay in a ridiculously high pitched voice that’s so ridiculous that it’s impossible not to burst into laughter immediately. They keep her. 

Story-Time Richie might be Eddie’s favorite. Standing in the doorway of their son Adrian’s room, he watches as Richie turns the glossy pages of the picture book. Adrian observes the pictures, giggling, especially at the weird voices Richie gives the characters. Like his old impressions when Eddie was a kid, they sound more like Richie than anything else. It’s something so beyond perfect, so uniquely Richie, and there’s nothing that Eddie can imagine that will be as perfect as this. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is coincidentally also @nb-richie


End file.
